Her eyes, red with crying, widened as she looked at him. “You mean that...?”
“I mean,” Mason said, “that the Escobar Import and Export Company is now claiming there’s a shortage of twenty thousand dollars.”
“Twenty thousand dollars!” she repeated, aghast.
“Exactly,” Mason said. And then after a moment went on, “How do you come to work? Do you drive or...?”
“No, I take a bus.”
“What about arrangements for your brother? Were there any other relatives?”
“No, I got up early this morning and made arrangements.”
“Why didn’t you take that plane last night as you were instructed?”
“Because I thought someone was following me. Mr. Mason, I felt certain that a man in an automobile followed my taxicab all the way to the Union Depot and then tried to follow me. I tried to lose myself in the crowd, but I don’t think I was very successful. I kept having that horrible feeling that this man was spying on me and was where he could see me all the time, so I went into the women’s restroom, stayed for a long time, then came out and took a lot of what I suppose you would call evasive tactics. I started through the gate for a train, then doubled back and then, by the time I got to the airport, it was ten minutes too late. The plane had taken off. So then I decided to have dinner and come in on a later plane.”
“Why didn’t you telephone Paul Drake’s office or somebody?”
“I... I never thought of it. I knew you were coming up on that plane and I knew I’d meet you here this morning and — well, I never thought of anything else.
“Then when I got in I telephoned the hospital and found out that my brother was worse and I went up there and — I was with him — when—”
“There, there,” Mason said. “You’ve had a pretty hard row to hoe. Now, what I want you to do is to catch the next bus, go back to your apartment, and try to get some sleep. Do you have any sleeping medicine?”
“Yes, I have some sleeping pills.”
“Take them,” Mason said. “Go to sleep and forget about everything... Do you have that cashier’s check?”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me,” Mason said. “I probably won’t use it, but I’d like to have it. And here’s your suitcase.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked, giving him the cashier’s check.
“I’m going up to the Escobar Import and Export Company and throw a little weight around. At least, I’m going to try to.”
“Mr. Mason — twenty thousand dollars. Good Lord!”
“I know,” Mason said. “It’s a shock.”
“But what can we do?”
“That,” Mason said, “remains to be seen. The game is old but it’s almost infallible. Some poor guy gets to betting on the horses, gets in over his head, takes two or three thousand dollars and skips town, and the smart guy who remains behind cleans out all the cash available and the embezzler is stuck with the whole thing. If they never catch up with him, he’s supposed to have taken it all, and if they do catch up with him and he denies that he took anything above two or three thousand, no one believes him. He goes to prison for the whole thing.”
Mason put the check in his wallet, then guided her gently toward the street door. “Get on your bus,” he said. “Go back to your apartment and go to sleep. Leave the Escobar Import and Export Company to me... Do you have a private phone or does it go through the apartment switchboard?”
“It goes through the apartment switchboard.”
“Leave word that you’re not to be disturbed,” Mason said. “Get some sleep. I have your phone number. Tell the operator that only calls from me are to be put through. This is Friday. I’ll go back to my office this afternoon. You can reach me through the Drake Detective Agency if you need me... I’m sorry about your brother’s death. You poor kid, you’ve had a lot to put up with during the last few days. Take it easy and call on me if you need me... Where does your bus stop?”
“Right here,” she said, “at this bus stop. And I owe you for my plane ticket, Mr. Mason. I remembered you had ordered two tickets to be charged to you. When I got to the airport I made a rush for that plane, thinking it might have been a few minutes late taking off. I was going to pay for the ticket with my credit card, but I couldn’t find it. I must have lost it, and the girl at the ticket counter said that the ticket was all paid for, and—”
“That’s all right,” Mason said. “Forget it.”
He guided her to a wooden bench at the curb. “Take the first bus home. I’m going up to the office and see what can be done.”
She flung her arms around the lawyer and kissed him impulsively.
“Mr. Mason, you’re so wonderful!” she said.
10
Mason stood in the hallway on the sixth floor surveying the offices of the Escobar Import and Export Company.
There was a display showing Oriental art goods, carved ivories, and cloisonné.
On the other side of the entrance door the display showed figurines which had a Toltec or Aztec look about them.
Double plate-glass doors opened into a rather shallow showroom in which there were glass shelves containing further specimens of art. The entrance doors had the legend ESCOBAR IMPORT AND EXPORT COMPANY, Wholesale Only.
Mason pushed the doors open and entered the display room. A girl seated at a switchboard smiled mechanically. “May I help you?” she asked.
Mason said, “I’d like to see Mr. Gage, please.”
“Which one? Mr. Franklin Gage or Mr. Homer Gage?”
“Franklin Gage.”
“He isn’t in. He’s out on a business trip.”
“Then I’ll see Homer Gage.”
“What’s the name, please?”
“Perry Mason.”
“Did you wish to see him about a purchase, Mr. Mason, about some art goods, or...?”
“It’s a more personal matter than that,” Mason said.
“May I ask what firm you represent?”
“I don’t represent any firm,” Mason said. “My name is Perry Mason. I’m an attorney from Los Angeles. I happen to be here at the moment to discuss an employee by the name of Diana Douglas.”
“Oh, oh!” she said. “Oh, yes... yes, indeed. Just a moment!”
She plugged in a line and Mason saw her lips moving rapidly, but the connection of the telephone was so arranged that he couldn’t hear her words.
A moment later a door in the back part of the room opened and a heavy-set, chunky individual came striding out, a man in his late thirties, with dark hair which had receded well back from his temples, bushy black eyebrows, keen gray eyes, and tortoise-shell glasses. His mouth was a straight line of thin determination.
“Mr. Mason?” he said.
“Right.”
“I’m Homer Gage. What did you wish to see me about?”
“Diana Douglas.”
“What about her?”
“She’s an employee of yours?”
“Yes. She is, but she’s not here at the moment. Her brother was seriously injured in an automobile accident and I am afraid she is rather upset. If it’s a matter of credit rating or integrity, I can assure you that she has a fine reputation.”
“It’s neither,” Mason said. “I wanted to talk to you about her.”
“Well, I’m here.”
“All right,” Mason said, “if you want to talk here, we’ll talk here. I’m representing Miss Douglas. What was the idea of telling the Los Angeles police that she had embezzled twenty thousand dollars from this...”
Gage interrupted, throwing up his hands, palms outward. “Stop right there, Mr. Mason. We never said any such thing.”